


heart it races

by Beans (provetheworst)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route Spoilers, Hot Springs & Onsen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Sexual Content, Spoilers for Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Weird Fluff, byleth tries to invent communism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 01:13:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21045854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/provetheworst/pseuds/Beans
Summary: "Hmm." Edelgard tilts her head to one side and the other, stretching. The weight of the crown is heavy. "So why have you come? I thought you intended to bathe.""Thought about it," Byleth says. "Didn't want to do it alone.""Ah." Edelgard peers at her curiously, trying to will the flush from her face. "Is that so.""Yes."Edelgard's eyes keep lingering in the worst places - the four streaks of red running from Byleth's shoulder to waist, remnants of some violent encounter. The spatters across the side of her face. The way Byleth's tongue darts out, unmannered and uncaring, to clean some blood from her upper lip.





	heart it races

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't get a beta so please accept my apologies for any mistakes or errors. If anything's especially egregious feel free to let me know. I tried to keep things mostly canon compliant except, like, half a paragraph of extremely self-indulgent Divine Pulse related efforts. (I also took some liberties around how long Rhea's been Archbishop, because I don't know but it could have been a while.)

Edelgard's eyes snap open at the clatter of someone entering her tent, before the sounds resolve into something familiar and she relaxes again. Byleth's outfit is not especially stealthy at the best of times, whether visually or auditorily, but then, Byleth rarely tries for stealth. Neither does Edelgard.

She eyes her former Professor cautiously, as Byleth has just tracked mud into her tent and is covered in blood and gore. Edelgard has a small table and two chairs - less than the setup previous emperors had used, pared down to practicality for someone who frequently needs to spread out charts and maps and supply orders while on the march. Byleth sinks into the other chair, leaning forward and resting one elbow on the table, propping her chin up on her hand.

"Edelgard."

"My teacher."

Byleth waves a hand dismissively at the moniker, but her eyes are fond and warm. She practically radiates energy. Most importantly, as Edelgard half-noticed before, she is covered in a truly prodigious amount of blood.

"You know, we could make you a black uniform," Edelgard offers first, since Byleth seems to be waiting for her to speak. "Or perhaps red."

"You'd let me match?"

Edelgard looks at her thoughtfully. "I would, yes."

"You know I designed this armor myself." At the face Edelgard pulls, Byleth starts laughing. "I hated it as soon as I saw it, but I had people work so hard on it -"

"I did not want to insult your taste when I first saw it," Edelgard says, hiding a smile behind her hand. "And I do not mean to now. It was only an offer."

"Let me and Hubert match," Byleth decides. "He's your - your hand in the darkness, and I'm your hand in the ... light?"

"Hmm." Edelgard tilts her head to one side and the other, stretching. The weight of the crown is heavy. "So why have you come? I thought you intended to bathe."

"Thought about it," Byleth says. "Didn't want to do it alone."

"Ah." Edelgard peers at her curiously, trying to will the flush from her face. "Is that so."

"Yes."

Edelgard's eyes keep lingering in the worst places - the four streaks of red running from Byleth's shoulder to waist, remnants of some violent encounter. The spatters across the side of her face. The way Byleth's tongue darts out, unmannered and uncaring, to clean some blood from her upper lip. Her skin is unblemished and unharmed; none of the blood is Byleth's own.

(Edelgard wonders, sometimes, if her old Professor can bleed; wonders what mechanisms power the blood in a body without a heart. Wonders if the only blood Byleth has ever had is blood she's shed.)

"I'll be guarding your tent for the first watch tonight," Byleth says, finally. "It's me and Mara tonight." One of the guards, not particularly close to any of the Strike Force but trustworthy enough. Edelgard nods. She trusts Byleth's choices. "I'll clean up after my watch."

Edelgard's eyes linger a little too long, once again, before she remembers to nod. "Very well. Thank you, Byleth."

-

The long march through the kingdom continues. Their path cuts past a small village, beset by bandits; Hubert scowls by Byleth insists and they meet the ruffians in a fallow field on the outskirts. 

It's Linhardt, while lazing on the fence and occasionally casting Physic, who finds out about the hot springs, from a villager who explains the long and meandering backstory of the bandits' history with the village. He yawns summarizing even that much of the tale, and Byleth is impressed he didn't fall asleep.

The army makes camp for the night and Edelgard and Byleth and several guards make their way uphill along the winding path toward the springs. There's a small inn, wood with paper doors and windows. Against the darkening sky, Byleth can almost make out steam rising from the springs, which are walled off in a series of courtyards.

No one else is allowed in. The guards stand outside, watchful.

In novels Byleth has read, this is the point where her heart would be pounding. Instead, it rests still and quiet as stone inside her.

Inside, Edelgard takes off her headdress, and Byleth steps forward into her space. Edelgard freezes, like she forgot Byleth was even there.

"Let me help you, my emperor."

"Ah." Edelgard's confusion eases, and she nods, perfunctory. She spreads her arms slightly and allows Byleth to make quick work of the double-breasted buttons of her dress. Her cheeks look slightly pink but that could be because the air here is warm, so near the hot springs.

Her dress come first, then her smallclothes, her garters, her leggings. She lets Byleth take care of all of this, quiet and efficient. Byleth takes in every curve, every bit of sinew and muscle, the places where bone presses against skin. She catalogs every scar, trying to memorize the sight.

Her breath never comes any faster. Her body feels hot, muddled; she lets her lips part slightly as she finishes rolling Edelgard's leggings off her feet, and she turns away, folding everything carefully.

If only she hadn't turned away. If only she'd reached out, let herself touch Edelgard - Byleth has been so careful removing her clothes, avoiding her skin. She wants to know how it feels and tastes.

They've bathed together before; before the war and now during it since Byleth has returned. There was a sauna at Garreg Mach, rarely used. Enbarr has beautiful baths. with warm water surrounded by carefully-chosen and tended plants that sweeten the air. But they've always been communal, with other teachers and students, or ladies of the imperial court. Sometimes there were attendants and sometimes not.

Edelgard sits on a stool, while Byleth finds a bucket and a sponge. This earns her a curious look, and she settles on saying, "Let me tend to you."

Edelgard laughs, and nudges the bucket and sponge she already had with her toe. Byleth grins helplessly, shoulders rising and falling in a shrug.

"Well, I can use that water later myself."

"Right," Edelgard nods. Then - "Oh?"

Kneeling down beside her, Byleth wets the soapy sponge before gently pressing it to Edelgard's shoulderblade. Edelgard twitches, then relaxes, allowing Byleth to wash her back, her arms. Both strong with muscle from years of wielding Aymr. Even without her Crests she would be a force to fear on the battlefield. The corded muscle on display leaves Byleth's mouth dry. Byleth gently scrapes some dirt away with a fingernail, then touches a hand to Edelgard's cheek, turning her to face her. They're very close together.

Instead of bringing them any closer, Byleth brings the sponge to Edelgard's face, washing the grime of the day away as Edelgard holds her breath.

Byleth breathes so, so steadily. Her mind feels sharp and focused the way it does before battle. She has less practice with this sort of thing, though: desire - for anything - has only kindled itself in her since the awakening of Sothis within her all those years ago. Has only amounted to anything since Sothis merged with her.

How cruel of Rhea to do this to her, to make her - something. She doesn't know. Probably will never.

She finishes washing Edelgard, whose breath is off-rhythm, whose heart can be felt pounding beneath her ribs, whose purple eyes are fixed on her as if to hold her here forever like a butterfly pinned inside a box or a specimen pinned open for dissection.

What her own expression must say, she cannot tell. She's still getting used to feeling things besides surprise and physical pain - it's been a year, maybe, for her, with the five spent in deathsleep stolen away from her. But she knows affection and knows want and knows that she will walk this path with Edelgard to the very end, if the emperor will have her.

Edelgard trembles, only faintly, as she turns and pours water over herself to wash herself off. She must be exhausted. Byleth rarely feels tired anymore, not since Sothis, or at least not physically. Her mind is often tired, dulled by war and loss, but she hides it well and is always alert when it comes to strategy. Right now she wants to sleep but her muscles don't ache the way other people speak of theirs aching after a fight.

Then Edelgard steps into the water, and Byleth watches her calves vanish under the surface. Is transfixed by the flex of the back of her knee, of the movement of the muscles in her thighs.

Pale skin marked by scars vanishes and is blurred by dark water and the faint trace of steam that floats at its surface. Edelgard sits in the water, leaning back with her arms resting on the stone edge of the pool, and turns her head to Byleth.

"Will you join me?"

Byleth looks down at herself, still clothed and filthy, and grimaces, then - at a flicker in Edelgard's expression - nods hurriedly. "A moment."

She washes perfunctorily - rude, she knows, as she's sure she's missed a spot and will get the water dirty - and drops herself into the water with all the grace of a stone, sinking at a respectful distance from Edelgard.

Edelgard sighs, looking almost at peace. "Our journey is nearly over, my teacher."

"Please. Byleth."

"I know." Edelgard shakes her head. "I'm sorry, my - friend. My companion."

The entire time they've known each other, they've circled around something. Only since her return has Byleth truly understood it, though she had the first flickers of insight at the ball, meeting Edelgard at the Goddess Tower.

"It's not that I regret being your teacher," Byleth says, slow and halting. "I don't mean to offend. Only."

"Only?"

Byleth meets Edelgard's eyes. "I would rather stand at your side, than - than at a desk before you."

Edelgard's expression lightens. "That doesn't mean I cannot - or have not - learned from you."

"And I would teach you everything I know," Byleth agrees. "Only not as professor, but as your ..." She searches for a word that won't give away too much. She thinks she already has, with their earlier tenderness, with her insistence on washing the emperor clean of blood. And yet. Biting her lip, she tries, with a helpless smile, "Champion?"

"You always have been, haven't you."

Byleth reaches out to take Edelgard's hand, draw it up from the water so she can press her lips to her fingertips. She feels bold with no one watching, but still cautious, still circumspect. "I think I chose this path the moment I first saved you. Do you remember?"

Edelgard inclines her head in a nod. Her hands are softer than Byleth expected. The gloves she always wears protect her skin from a great deal. She cherishes the feel of such smooth skin against her own callused fingers. "From the bandits. The ones I accidentally set upon myself. You cannot mean that. You knew nothing of me or my goals."

"And yet," Byleth says, because that was the first time she had felt anything when saving someone. She had rescued her father's men in battle any number of times before that, and any number of civilians, in her years as a mercenary, but that had been because Jeralt had told her that was her job and she had followed her task as a rigid and straightforward arrow rather than a human being. "Did I not say I would serve the Empire?"

Her voice comes out a sigh: "You did, didn't you. It seems so childish, in hindsight, asking you to serve me so quickly."

"After this war." Byleth pauses. Gives voice to something she's been meaning to say for some time and has yet to speak: "After we kill Rhea."

"Yes?"

"What do you think your world without nobles will look like?"

Edelgard shakes her head. "It's hard to envision. I hope it looks like - like this."

Byleth looks around, curious, and stays silent.

"Just - people allowed to be themselves. To rise as high as they can on their own merits, or to fail by the same, common born or not."

"Hmm."

"Why? You're a - commoner, I suppose. It feels strange to call you that."

"But here I am, common as they come."

Edelgard laughs. "Never."

"I don't have noble blood, and if crests don't mean anything ..." Byleth trails off, teasing. "Listen. It's possible I'll be important to history - no, let me finish - it's possible. But it's not me alone. It's you, and it's the Black Eagle Strike Force, and it's the whole of the army. Any one person can ... can do a lot, but it's people together who make things that last." She pauses, letting out a heavy breath through her nose, then leans back. Tipping her head toward the ceiling, Byleth continues, thoughtful. "Please don't take that as an insult. What you've done is incredible, but - even if you could have done it alone, or if it were just you and Hubert, your achievements would only last as long as you survived."

"Hm." Edelgard leans forward slightly. "And yet Rhea alone has held Fodlan in her grasp for centuries."

"Not alone," Byleth counters. "She's rallied people to her cause, and ordered society to her liking in the process. It's a self-reinforcing cycle, but she's had a very long time to do it. The sort of thing I'm talking about is what ... what regular people can do. Not terrible beasts that disguise themselves as us."

"Then go on."

"If you want your - your revolution to survive, it can't just be you. It has to be the people." Byleth pauses. "That's what I envision. For the future. It's - people, united around an idea they believe in, and following no one but themselves as they protect it together."

"I am not sure I see."

Byleth shakes her head, frowning. "I'm not sure I've given it much thought before, really. I'm sorry."

"Then think about it," Edelgard decides, "and we can discuss it later."

Byleth offers up a thin smile. "It's your path I've chosen to walk, Edelgard. I wouldn't turn you from it."

"Despite what you say, it does seem you've given it quite some thought." Edelgard smiles. "Walking the same path does not mean I have to lead, you know. I value your insight. If you find a better path, then I will walk it beside you." When Byleth doesn't respond, she adds, finally: "We can speak of this another day."

Byleth sighs. She feels very warm. Her blood ebbs and flows inside her like the tide. The emperor rests before her in the water and some force inside Byleth aims to pull them together, but instead Byleth remains where she is, still as the stone inside her chest.

Even if she does not bridge the distance now, she's sure she will never quite escape Edelgard's orbit. (Once, many years ago, she asked her father why the moon hasn't crashed into the world, and he hadn't known but told her it didn't feel like it yet, and ever since Byleth has sometimes wondered if the moon will ever change its mind. She wonders if her and Edelgard coming together would be like that.)

Oh, she wants so much, and barely knows what it is to want, and she resists because Edelgard is already spreading herself so thin that she does not need one more burden. Byleth thinks, suddenly, that she understands Hubert more fully now in his dedication without any expectation of gratitude - though he gets quite a bit - or reciprocity. 

Both of them are quiet for a long time, enjoying the water, until finally Edelgard rises. Reaches out a hand to help Byleth up that Byleth takes without hesitation.

Her voice is very soft and very warm. "Thank you for joining me tonight, my - Byleth."

Byleth gives a perfunctory nod. "Of course." She will follow Edelgard anywhere, through anything.

Edelgard's eyes are darker than usual. She lowers her head, teeth worrying at her lip for a brief moment that Byleth nearly misses. "Would you help me dress?"

Byleth stares at her a beat too long, before repeating herself: "Of course."

Somehow replacing Edelgard's clothes is even more torturous than removing them; Byleth's hands nearly tremble. Surely Edelgard must know what this does to her.

"Are you all right?"

"Tired," Byleth gives as an excuse, though she's nearly never tired, not since she merged with Sothis. She buttons Edelgard's shirt; helps pull on her coat and buttons that too. Smooths the fabric, makes sure everything's in order. If Edelgard won't give voice to what she's doing, then Byleth won't insult her by mentioning it.

"I'm sorry to have kept you up, then. Thank you for listening to me. You always have something interesting to say. I've mentioned this before, but I truly do appreciate when we get this time together."

Byleth sinks to her knees, half in reverence, half to help with Edelgard's boots. "You can call on me any time. For as long as I live."

Edelgard's cheeks are a lovely shade of pink, her smile soft. Their situation is reversed now, from earlier: Edelgard in full imperial resplendence, Byleth naked before her. Byleth can both feel the emperor's regard and how Edelgard tries to carefully avoid looking too long at her, and wonders when she herself lost any such compunctions.

She's never been quite so well-mannered as Edelgard, she supposes, not with her upbringing or circumstances.

-

Almost exactly a day later, they kill Rhea, and Byleth dies.

-

Byleth dies, and then Byleth lives again, with a roaring sound in her ears and a restless, insatiable rhythm pushing through her body. Something in her chest beats against her ribs, and she struggles to breathe or focus around it.

Edelgard is cradling her and crying and Byleth is alive and her hair is blue and her eyes are dark and something, finally, has come alive inside her, surrounded by fire.

-

Byleth is still stained with blood and oozing green ichor when they declare victory, and Edelgard keeps looking at her out of the corner of her eye.

Byleth doesn't mention it.

Later, she proposes, in her way, and offers to bear Edelgard's burdens, to walk her path to its end. She thinks maybe she's promised this before, over and over, though in fewer words; has chosen and will always choose Edelgard. She's lost count of how many times she's turned back the clock just to protect Edelgard or the other Black Eagles - sometimes not even from death, but just from their own mistakes or misfortune or unnecessary sorrows. She wore herself out, once, to keep Felix from killing Sylvain, who now fights beside them; an impossible goal that she barely managed. And she has stopped Edelgard from being struck so many times with orders only slightly different than in previous attempts. All her former students are important to her, but it's Edelgard alone that she protects from even the mildest of injury. She will always choose Edelgard.

At least now she knows that choice won't leave her like von Vestra - ever-present, a loyal companion always held at arms' length who sometimes vanishes to do things no one else can know, a shadow of uncommon devotion but a shadow nonetheless. Byleth was willing to be that for her, if that's what she needed.

Instead they will stand together, side by side, and Byleth will not have to follow at a few steps' remove. 

Maybe soon they can finally rest.

-

Byleth goes out to rout some bandits while Edelgard works, half to prove to herself that she still can even without Sothis' power. Returns, bloodstained, purposefully putting off cleaning anything but her sword before seeing her betrothed.

Edelgard's breath catches in her throat when she sees Byleth, her cheeks coloring faintly, and she turns her head back to a long scroll, purposefully avoiding meeting Byleth's gaze.

Byleth strides forward, thighs pressed against the edge of the desk. Reaches out a bloody hand to cup Edelgard's chin. "El."

"You're filthy."

"Yes." No use denying that Byleth's boots are covered in dirt and blood, that she's stained by battle while Edelgard stays clean.

Edelgard licks her lips. Looks up at Byleth with half-lidded eyes, gaze partly hidden by her eyelashes.

"Will you come to bed with me?"

Edelgard's eyes widen. They've kissed, by now, but it's only been a few days, and everything has been so busy - she sputters, and finally, says, "Now?"

Byleth's expression softens into a smile. "I'd prefer now, yes."

"Give me ..." Edelgard looks down at the scroll, then sighs, shaking her head. "No, never mind, now. Yes. All right."

Byleth takes her by the hand and guides the emperor back to her chambers.

-

Edelgard's sheets are crisp and clean, and Byleth lays her down on them, undoes the buttons on her coat. Presses kisses to her throat as Edelgard sighs and melts beneath her. She has herself braced with one hand, and notes dimly that she's getting the sheets dirty.

Edelgard doesn't complain about that, nor about the redbrown streaks of blood on her face from Byleth's bloodstained hands, not that she can see them yet. Later Byleth will wash them from her face, tender and careful; for now, though, she ruins the emperor's pristine sheets and clothing and skin and Edelgard seems grateful for it all.

"You're so," Edelgard mumbles against her cheek. Byleth's teeth scrape against her jaw and ear. "Ah, Byleth."

"Tell me." Byleth pulls her coat off, and Edelgard sits slightly to help her remove it, and her shirt as well. Edelgard does not reach to remove any of Byleth's clothes, so she leaves them on. "El."

"Tell you what?" Edelgard's hands grasp at her back, bunched up in the fabric of Byleth's new uniform - black robes with gold trim, more elegant than the Church-inspired monstrosity of the past, in Edelgard's estimate at least. She wriggles under Byleth, pulling at her skirt, and Byleth sits backward for a moment to help her remove it, throwing it to the side, so all Edelgard is left wearing are her stockings and garter belt.

"You like to see me after battle, don't you."

"Ah." Edelgard swallows hard; Byleth feels it against her lips, that movement under the thin skin of Edelgard's neck. "Yes."

"Don't worry. Don't worry, I'm not judging you. We match, after all."

Edelgard hesitates. Byleth kisses at her sternum, then her breast. She's tender and careful and so, so strong. She could bruise, if she chose to. Instead her touch is like a ghost's, and Edelgard strains toward her wanting more.

"If we can bathe after this," Byleth says. "We'll be even."

Edelgard stays quiet.

"You enjoy seeing me fight, and seeing me after," Byleth says, "and I like - being able to do that for you. Keep your hands clean."

"Ah." Edelgard sighs. Byleth teases at a nipple with her teeth, drawing a hiss from the emperor. She lingers a while, still keeping her touch oh-so-delicate and feather light, always careful and tender.

"Too bad the war's over."

"Don't say that."

"I'm sorry." Byleth presses a kiss against Edelgard's stomach, which is slightly soft but undergirded by strong muscles that twitch beneath the contact. Byleth inches down the bed, resting her hands on Edelgard's hips. Twitches a finger under the edge of her garter belt, not to remove it but to feel it. "That's not what I meant."

"As much as I like talking to you ..."

Byleth kisses below Edelgard's belly button. Presses her face against the patch of curled white hair. Pauses, inhaling, exhaling; Edelgard shudders at the feel of her breath. Byleth is aware once again of the roaring of blood in her ears. She can feel Edelgard's pulse under her hands and it makes her more aware of her own, which she can't get used to. It's hard to focus, sometimes, with the constant sound and feeling of it.

Right now her heart is beating faster than it ever has before, and she wonders if she's already overtaxed it. Maybe the thing will give out. That happens, she knows, mostly to the elderly, but her heart has been so abused for so long - but no, she doesn't think she's dying again. A third time would be frankly excessive.

It's just loud.

"Byleth?"

"Sorry," Byleth says, and pushes Edelgard's legs a little further apart. Edelgard's scent is strong here, and Byleth wants to taste her. Nothing stops her from tasting her, so she does, flicking her tongue against the warm flesh, already damp. Edelgard gasps, and Byleth buries her face in the emperor. Her experience is limited, but Edelgard doesn't seem to mind.

Edelgard's hands tangle in her hair, and her hips tremble and buck, and the sounds she makes are enough to drown out the rush of blood in Byleth's ears for a while.

She presses a finger inside Edelgard, then two because she's wet and giving enough, as she continues to use her lips and her teeth and her tongue; Edelgard trembles and repeats her name, over and over, like a hymn or a prayer being written for a world without saints or a goddess.

Byleth's fingers tighten on Edelgard's hips, keeping her still when the movement gets too much, and that seems to set Edelgard off too - being held down - and with another mumbled repetition of Byleth's name she finally finds release. When she does, she's very quiet, and when she finishes she's very still.

Byleth kisses the inside of her thigh, then gets to her knees, wiping off her mouth with the back of her hand. She looks down across Edelgard's body, all the emperor's muscles and scars laid out before her, the small shapely breasts, her flushed face and closed, peaceful eyes.

"Come here," Edelgard says, tired and peaceful as Byleth complies and lies beside her once more. "I'd like to rest a while before we bathe." She cracks one eye open, watching Byleth with a smile, and Byleth nods. "And let me kiss you again."

Byleth is happy to satisfy that request, too.

Long ago, the archbishop had tried to teach her and her students a lesson about the fate awaiting those who point their blades toward the heavens. Byleth only wishes she'd done so sooner. The fate she shares with Edelgard is dear to her, dearer than anything. The heavens no longer press down on them; there is only a clear blue sky, sometimes full of stars.


End file.
